


Split Ends

by Little_Inkstone



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3294308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Inkstone/pseuds/Little_Inkstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The curse has made Belle, now Rose French, work in a hair salon for the past 28 years to keep her from her happy ending, but she remembers everything. And now with the appearance of Emma Swan she’s not the only one who does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Split Ends

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Rumbelle story, and I thought I'd finally post it here!

Rose French sighed morosely thinking about how unhappy she was with how her life was turning out.  She knew it had to be that way; there was no other option.  Because of the curse that had been cast by the evil queen.  Still, that didn’t make dealing with the disappointment any easier.

Despite the curse and its meddling with her mind she remembered being Belle.  She remembered everything to do with her past life, magnificent balls, grand castles, and true love, which served to simply make her all the unhappier.

Trying to make a life for herself in Storybrooke Maine was hard with two conflicting stories in her head.  Sometimes she would think she had simply gone mad, but there was tangible proof of the curse.  For one, no one had aged a day in the last however many years they’d been stuck in this land without magic.

Only little Henry, Regina’s adopted son grew and changed.  The rest of the inhabitants of the cursed town remained the same, except for the small details.  Hair and nails, of all things, continued to grow.

And since no one was allowed to be happy, and books would have given Belle a semblance of happiness in Storybrooke.  She was not the town librarian, not anymore anyway, she was the town hairdresser.  A ridiculous job for her to be sure.

In her past memories, the forged ones, she remembered being in charge of the now vacant building that also served as the clock tower.  She remembered Regina saying there wasn’t enough interest to justify the expense in the budget and she remembered the sad, but completely fake, day her library was closed down.

She also remembered looking for a job and finally having Bolinda Nursery take pity on her and offer her a part time job as a stylist at her barber shop, Lost Lamb Salon.

Belle was grateful for employment, even though she knew the curse would keep her from starving or dying in any manner.  She was glad to have something to do and somewhere to go during the day, even if she didn’t exactly like the job she had.

The only flicker of light in the ocean darkness that was her life was Mr. Gold.

Before he had been Rumpelstiltskin, a great and powerful deal-making sorcerer feared in all the realms.  Now, he was still feared, but simply a pawnbroker and antiques dealer.  He had no memory of their previous lives, this Belle was sure of.  Why should he?  She was the oddball the strange one.  While locked away in her tower the Queen had outlined all of her plans, needing someone, if only a prisoner, to listen and Belle remembering had not been one of them.

It was a funny thing, memories and cursed unhappiness.  People still managed to find the folks they loved if only for a short while.  Herself being a prime example.  Once a month for thirty minutes, forty-five if she pushed it, she was Mr. Gold’s hairdresser.

He preferred to keep his hair long, but he also liked it neat.  A habit that had passed on from the previous world,  _I can’t intimidate the masses with split ends!_   He had once said to her, and it appeared that Mr. Gold felt the same.  Once a month she washed, combed, and trimmed his hair, and once a month for thirty or forty minutes she was happy.

He asked for her personally, and she made sure to always be available.  Belle was the only person in the shop, possibly in the whole town, who wasn’t afraid to touch him for long periods of time.  She wondered sometimes how the curse explained the false time before she had been there to cut his hair for him.  Who did it say had done the job before her?

Belle shook her head dismissing her deep thoughts.  It was best not to think about the curse when she was at work.  Many people she recognized from their home land came to the shop every day to get their hair cut; she couldn’t afford to slip up.  Lest Regina discover that she remembered.  Or worse, she was thrown into the asylum under the hospital.

It was a slow day and she expected at any minute Bolinda would show up to tell her to take the rest of the day off; until the small bell above the door rang and in stepped Mr. Gold.

“Hello Mr. Gold, a little early this month aren’t we?”  She asked with a pleasant smile moving from behind the counter towards him.  Glad that he was there to clear away her melancholy mood.

He made a soft noise that almost sounded like a gasp, before clearing his throat and nodding.  “Indeed, Miss French.”

She looked at him carefully noting that he seemed paler than usual, as if he’d seen a ghost.  “Are you alright Mr. Gold?  Is something wrong?”  She asked, concerned.

“No, no not at all, I just came to get a trim.”  He said nonchalantly.  She nodded with a smile and let the matter drop.

She led him over to the sinks for washing hair and got him settled before beginning their usual routine.  Mr. Gold always remained silent while she took care of his hair, but she talked up a storm anyway, happy to know he was listening, if only half-heartedly.  She liked slipping in things that had once had meaning to him, if he were  _her_  Rumpelstiltskin he would understand.  But as it was she was just glad to see him.

“So I was at the diner, and you know how clumsy I am, I almost dropped one of the mugs.  I’m sure it would have chipped if I hadn’t caught it in time.”  She began as she scrubbed his rich brown tresses.

“It’s just a cup.”  He mumbled relaxing into her soothing touch as she rubbed his scalp.

She paused for half a heartbeat before clearing her throat.  “Yes, I guess it was…”  Mr. Gold never spoke to her while she chattered on; it was surprising to say the least.

“Have you heard about the visitor to town?”  He asked suddenly.  Throwing her for another loop, he definitely never  _started_  conversations with her.

“Do you mean Emma Swan?  Yes I met her in passing today.  How odd, Storybrooke never has visitors.”  She replied adding to the gossip they were sharing.  “Not for so long as I can remember.”

“Memory is a funny thing.”  He said as she rinsed his hair.  She hummed noncommittally all too aware of how funny memories could be.

They moved over to her designated styling chair in silence and she then commenced combing out the tangles and knots her ministrations had caused.  She worked silently berating herself the whole time.  Usually merely being near her true love, even if he didn’t remember her, made her feel somehow at ease.  Today she was jumpy and anxious.

Her silence obviously drew Mr. Gold’s curiosity as he attempted to start another conversation.  “You’re rather quiet today Miss French, beast caught your tongue?”  He asked attempting some humor.

She giggled, wishing he understood how funny that statement truly was.  “Not at all, but I’m sure that you’re tired of listening to me prattle on every month.”

“I enjoy listening to you Miss French, if nothing else, never doubt that.”  He replied quietly.

“Thank you Mr. Gold.”  She whispered as she continued to comb his hair.  Belle cleared her throat, “The usual?”  She asked picking up her silver colored scissors.

“Yes, that will be fine.”

They fell into silence again as she carefully took the double bladed tool to the tips of his mop.  She hummed softly, a song she had once sung while cleaning the Dark Castle.  It was a melody from her homeland that usually managed to make her feel a little less home sick.  Today it didn’t seem to be working very well.

“That’s a lovely tune; where-ever did you hear it?”  Mr. Gold asked as she continued to cut his hair.

How should she respond?   _Oh, you know, it’s a traditional folk song from my home of Avonlea._   She doubted that would go over very well.

“Not sure.”  She lied.

“Pity.”  He mumbled.

The silence between the two was thick and horribly awkward.  She cleared her throat and tried to get the conversation going again.  “Have you ever thought of doing something different with your hair?”

“Like what, dear?”  He asked making eye contact with her in the mirror.

“Oh I don’t know something unexpected.  How about I crimp it for you?”  She asked flippantly.

He made a choking noise like he was trying not to laugh and shook his head, mindful of her scissors.  “I’m sure I would look dreadful with crimped hair.”  He finally replied.

“I don’t know Mr. Gold, I can see it.”  She said with a smirk.

He gave her look that she was used to seeing from the Dark Castle, but one that Mr. Gold had never directed at her.  Confusion written clearly on his face.

“Can you?”  He asked seriously.

She nodded her mouth suddenly becoming dry.  “Yes.”

He began to say something but was cut off when the shop door opened and Regina, followed by a miserable looking Henry, walked in.

“Mayor Mills, what a pleasant surprise.  But I thought Henry’s appointment wasn’t until 5:30?”  Bolinda asked by way of greeting from her place at the reception desk.

“I know we’re an hour early, but I have a town meeting this evening and I was hoping you might be able to sneak him in a little sooner.”  Regina replied with one of her mayoral smiles.

“Of course, we’re not very busy right now, and no one else had an appointment for this time.  Come this way Henry.”  The friendly stylist said leading the little boy over to a salon chair.

Wanting to spend as little time near the mayor as possible Belle quickly finished cutting Mr. Gold’s hair and held a mirror to the back of his head.  “How does it look Mr. Gold?”  She asked.

“As always you’ve done an excellent job, Miss French.”  He complimented, flashing her a rare and genuine smile.

His words and smile made her feel warm and happy.  And she had to fight a blush as they walked back over the reception desk so he could pay.

“How much do I owe you?”  He asked reaching for his wallet.

“The usual.”  Belle said ringing up his bill.  He paid and gave her a generous tip before inclining his head in farewell.  She smiled and waved as he left and was about to turn away to ask if she could go home early when she noticed that he had left his wallet on the counter.

“Bo, Mr. Gold left his wallet behind, I’m going to see if I can catch him.”  She yelled to her boss before taking off.  The other woman waved her hand in silent approval as she continued to focus on the squirming boy in her chair, so as not to render him completely bald on one side with the clippers.

Belle ran out of the shop and looked around to see which way he had gone.  Disheartened to find that he had seemed to have disappeared into thin air she decided to run down to his shop in hopes of catching him there.  Mr. Gold’s pawnshop was right around the corner from the salon, a five minute walk at most, even shorter if one jogged, which Belle was now doing.

The little silver bell jingled merrily to announce her presence as she walked into his shop.  She avoided this place at all costs, to full of memories only she, and Regina, recognized from a world long gone.  Not to mention a certain true love who was completely in the dark about it all.

He was at his counter looking over some books when she entered.  “Miss French?”  He questioned, confused by her presence.

“Sorry Mr. Gold, you forgot your wallet.”  She said with a smile, only mildly winded from the quick jog over.  She held the small square of leather up so he could see it.

“Thank you for returning it to me.”  He replied as she walked further into the shop.

She tried not to, but she found her eyes straying to the contents of his shop.  Little knickknacks and priceless treasures all packed into one place.  How had no one realized that these things where enchanted, how had no one looked at something in here and remembered?  Probably because no one else had spent a good portion of a year dusting and cleaning most of the items present.

“See anything you like?”  He asked when she was finally standing across the counter from him.

Belle shook her head.  “No, just thinking about all of the memories this place holds.”

“Memories?”  Mr. Gold asked an almost hopeful note in his voice, or was that just her wishing?

“Hmmm, yeah, I bet more than half the things in here are completely forgotten too.”  She said offhandedly still looking around.

“How do you mean?”  He queried.

Smiling she looked back at him shaking her head.  “Nothing, I’m just being fanciful.”  Belle replied.

“Yes well…”  He cleared his throat.  “Thank you again for bringing me my wallet.”

“It was no problem.”  Belle said with another smile.  She should be leaving, there was no reason she shouldn’t go, but her feet refused to move and she remained planted to the spot.

“Can I do anything else for you, Miss French?”

Belle worried her bottom lip, she shouldn’t; it was stupid.  If she was wrong she’d never see the light of day again.  But Belle was brave, or tried to be anyway.   _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._   She thought to herself reciting the line she had once told the man standing before her.

“Do you believe in past lives?”  She finally asked.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”  He said warily.

Losing her never Belle laughed nervously.  “Never mind, it was stupid.”  She dismissed, walking away quickly, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Belle, wait!”  He yelled as she made her way to the door.

That wasn’t right; everyone thought her name was Rose.  Maybe she had heard him wrong?  Unless…

“What did you call me?”  She cursed herself silently hearing the quiver in her voice.

“Your real name.”  He whispered; he was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.

Belle turned around she eyes shining.  “Rumpelstiltskin, you remember!”  She flung her arms around him and pressed her face against his chest.  “I love you.”

“Yes, yes!  And I love you too.”  Rumpelstiltskin said dropping his cane and wrapping his arms securely around her as if she might vanish at any moment.

“When did you remember?  How long have you known?”  She asked still clinging to him.

“A few days now, I would have come to see you sooner, but I was afraid.  I thought my memories of you were simply the curse playing a cruel joke.”  He whispered into her hair.

“Because you thought I was dead.”  She said simply.

“Yes, but how do you know?”

“From before, the Queen had me locked up.  She liked to brag about what she did and was going to do.  Her favorite taunt was that you thought I was dead and were never coming to rescue me.”  She shuddered,  _you can’t rescue the dead!_   Belle remembered, thinking of the queen cackling maliciously.

“If I had only known, I would have torn the world apart to find you.”  He all but wailed.

“I know, but we’re together now.”

“Oh my darling Belle, I love you.”  As he spoke Rumpelstiltskin tilted her chin up and captured her lips in a gentle kiss.

It was soft and tender as they poured 28 or more years of separation and love into it.  After so long it was unbearably sweet, but not enough, nothing would ever be enough.  He slanted his lips against hers and deepened the kiss, she responded in turn equally enthusiastic. 

When they finally pulled away it was reluctantly and only so they could both take a breath.

“How long have you remembered?”  He asked resting his forehead against hers.

“I never forgot.”  She replied snuggling closer to him, if that were possible.

“You’ve known, for 28 years?  You’ve been here, alone in this strange world with no one to turn to?”  He said his voice becoming deep with rage.

“Yes, but I prefer it that way.  I’m not sure I could stand forgetting you.”  Belle said, attempting to calm him.

“Regina will pay for this.”  He hissed tightening his hold on her.

“I don’t think it’s her fault.  She doesn’t know I remember.”

Some of the tension drained out of him.  “Well, there will be time for that later.”  He mumbled softly.

“Exactly, now kiss me again.  I’ve waited far too long for a second kiss.”  She demanded pressing her lips against his with a soft moan.  He returned the kiss smiling against her mouth all too eager to oblige.

And finally in the cursed little town of Storybrooke Maine, wrapped safely in the arms of her true love, Belle was happy.


End file.
